The Heart of Valhalla
by Pseudonym101
Summary: The Winchesters seemingly are off onto another case, revealing it to be more than it seems with consequences for more than one realm. A very particular weapon must be acquired to thwart this new threat.But not without a little help from a dark haired hunter, who is more than she lets reful Dean Winchester, you cant ignore this one no matter what you try. (DW/OC) T to M later
1. Chapter 1

The Heart of Valhalla.

Seated at the end of the black marble bar, pale fingers with long black nails pulled at the strings of an old and worn small bag. The bag was upended and its contents tumbled out and clattered noisily against the bar top. Small pieces of off white bone the size of coins with runes inscribed upon them. Her fingers gently poked and prodded the pieces as dark eyes lined in heavy black liner studied the formation. She read each one and how they spoke to her. She leaned back in the bar stool, contemplating their meaning, their prediction and warning.  
The bar keep approached. He was mid forties and well kept. Blue eyes and blonde wavy hair with a undercut. The stubble on his face was somewhere between ash blond and red but showing signs of a little grey coming in at the chin. The few fine lines around his eyes were all that told his age. He leaned forward on the bar on tattooed forearms exposed by rolled up sleeves and glanced over the bones she had cast. He could read a little from what she taught him over the years, but not nearly like she could.

He could never stop himself from staring at her. She looked like she'd been carved from porcelain. Which was in contrast to her dark raven eyes and a mane of jet black hair which she kept braided back off her face. His lady was a warrior with the composure of a queen.  
"What do they say?"  
She looked out from under her lashes, her brow slightly furrowed, breaking that cool visage.  
"Winchesters".

Baby's engine could drown out almost all other noise as it bore down the stretch of road. All except the stereo. Sam Winchester could only stare and eyeroll somewhere between annoyance and disbelief watching his brother pat the dash and coo to the car. And when he wasnt doing that he was singing as loud as he could along with the music. Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole. Sam could only find reasonable solace with his headphones. Irony was in trying to find peace he would have to turn his iphone's itunes player all the way up, just to drown his brother out to a dull roar.


	2. Chapter 2

[ a/n: karlsfell is fictional, but based in a real area.] 

Dean spied the giant snowy mountain in the distance. Karlsfell, an isolated ski resort town at the foot of Bald Mountain. Over his shoulder at the small table in their hotel room, he could see his brother with his head down and concealed by his mane of brown hair tapping away furiously at the laptop keys. Something was in the frosty air. Something not quite as it seems. He always had a gut instinct for this sort of feeling. And most of the time he was completely right to follow it. Karlsfell wasnt what it was cracked up to be. He shifted in his coat. It was a cold night.

"So why are we are here?" Dean posed the question to Sam. Sam leaned back in the wooden chair and it creaked a little.

"So, Karlsfell, Idaho. On the surface, ski resort town. Bald mountain and it surrounds has some of the best skiing. Nordic settlement originally, hence the, you know, heavy scandinavian sentiments around the place." Sam gestured to the axes on the wall, runes on the door frame and little thor's hammers embedded in the bed head of the two single beds in their room.

"Yeah History channel had a field day in here" Dean quipped.

"So, in recent history, bodies have been showing up in the valley. Cauterized stab wounds. Burnt out eye sockets. Sound familiar?"

"Angels and demons having it out."

"Going through these web reports, the town, or someone in it, has definitely been covering up the deaths. Especially as theyve become more frequent."

Dean took the chair opposite Sam as the latter spun the laptop around. Dean scrolled through. A few a year, to several each month for the last 4 months. Bodies were dropping and no one was pursuing why.

"Wait , with no official news reports, how did you get wind of this?" it dawned on Dean. Something was amiss. Sam pursed his lips and flicked his eyebrows up. Dean wasnt going to like it.

"Uh, well, since you asked. I got an email. An anonymous email. I tried back tracing it but with no luck. Only that it came from here. Someone wanted us to know whats going on."

"Wait, so we've just wandered into, who only knows what, based on a weirdo email that you just what, trusted to follow... jesus Sam..." Dean trailed off.

Sam sat up straight and got that very matter-of-fact stance about him.

"First off, dont you find it weird angels and demons are being drawn here so much. And killing each other over it? And secondly, I think the email was a call for help."

"Or a trap".

"Maybe so. But there is definitely something up with this place. Something's here." Sam relaxed. "And we were both getting a little cabin fever at the bunker and thought we could use a little out time" he finished with a quieter tone.

Dean shrugged. They had been getting a little bored. Things had been a bit quiet lately. Castiel and Jack had taken off to help Jack train with his powers. They still had no clue just how far that kid could go. Asmodeus was quiet as a doormouse and not giving away anything, and Lucifer was in the wind. Eh, Sam had a point. As usual.

"Alright, guess we recon the town in the morning. Maybe our secret admirer will show themselves."

Dean threw himself onto the bed closest to the door. He stretched out on his stomach and pulled his hands up under the pillow supporting his head. His right hand gripped around the gun he stashed there.

"They arrived this evening, my lady".

She turned to her human. She strolled slowly toward him, the dark velvet of her dress swished around her feet. Her faithful human. It was a pity he did not turn out to be Heartsong. And against the rules she loved him nonetheless. Her pale hand slid along his shoulder, his neck and up into his blond hair. He closed his blue eyes and collected her in his arms, burying himself in her. Theirs was a doomed connection. But neither cared. Damn the rules.

"Torgeir.." 

"My Sig..my queen.."


End file.
